Distractions
by MistressNobody
Summary: House x Cameron; set around the time of 1st season. House just can't hold out once Cam's in trouble!
1. A New You

**A/N: This is my first Fanfic, so any constructive criticisms would be appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!**

**This is set waaaay back in the like 1st season timeline. We're kicking it old school**

**PS - A line break means a switch from Cam's POV to House's  
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Sleep was slow to shake itself off for Cameron that morning. She stretched her weary muscles, trying to relieve the stiffness from having spent all night in the chair beside Taylor Hannigan's bed. Glancing at the small girl, Cameron's heart began to melt. Taylor was still fast asleep, her blond curls spread over her pillow and a tiny fist curled beside her mouth. Cameron felt her forehead for any sign of fever, and began to make sure all her vitals were still normal. No one knew yet why the six year old girl had collapsed the day before, but she was determined to find out. Cameron lightly brushed a lock of hair from Taylor's brow, before turning to leave the room. She stopped in her tracks upon glancing up to see House hovering in the doorway. He had an odd expression on his face; she couldn't quite tell what it was he was thinking. Of course, that wasn't unusual for House.

"Another all-nighter, I see." He began with a hint of reproach to his voice. Cameron's shoulders stiffened as she prepared to defend her actions. Before she could open her mouth, he continued. "Did you stay up all night, paint your toenails, and talk about boys?" A smile twitched at Cameron's lips while she relaxed her shoulders. He wasn't going to yell at her, just be his usual smart-assed self.

"Well, I didn't have a bottle of polish on me." She suppressed the grin that was trying to work its way out of her. House raised an eyebrow.

"But you did talk about boys? Don't tell me the conversation centered on Chase's pretty face, that'll just ruin my breakfast."

"No, we didn't talk about Chase..." She let the suggestion hang in her tone as she walked towards the doorway. House's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who did you talk about, then?" Cameron stopped in the doorway beside him, her face only inches away from his. A smirk worked its way across her features as she declared their object of discussion.

"You." She moved past him to walk down the hall, bumping his hip lightly with her own on the way by. Cameron turned the corner of the hall, then burst into laughter about the surprised look that had crossed his face. One of these days, she promised herself, she would get to him. She could wait.

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House paced the meeting room with his cane, trying not to think of what had happened that morning. The group was waiting on Cameron for the morning's discussion, she must have gone to change out of her clothes from the night before. The cramping in his leg was at an all-time low, making every step a painful bitch, but he couldn't stop moving. What had gotten into her that morning? It was almost as though she had been... flirting with him. That wasn't like the shy, quiet Cameron he was used to ignoring. Worse yet, he wasn't repulsed by it in the least. Quite the opposite, lord help him. He had known about her little crush for awhile, but had tried to resist the attraction. He was much too old for her, and he was her boss. It was impossible.

Finally, the object of his thoughts breezed her way into the room, looking as fresh and as perfect as ever. Oh boy, did he need to get a handle on himself.

"No need to wait on me, boys." Cameron smirked as she lightly dropped into a chair, beginning to rifle through her notes. House took a look at the shock registered on Chase and Foreman's faces, and realized he wasn't alone. What had gotten into her? The normal Cameron would have quietly apologized for being late and taken her seat. This Cameron was just down-right... sassy. He ignored the little thrill that went through him at that.

"If princess is all done applying her make-up," As usual, he hid his true feelings behind good, solid sarcasm, "maybe we can get on to business." She threw him a dirty look, and a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "Now, let's review. What are all the symptoms that our midget Barbie-doll displayed before her collapse yesterday?"

The group spent the next hour focused on little Taylor and her little problem, all the while House's own 'little problem' hovered at the back of his mind.


	2. Trouble Ahead

Cameron was pleased with herself. Yesterday while keeping a silent vigil over Taylor while she slept, she had decided in her mind to make herself more assertive. She was tired of constantly being ignored and run over, and she had to admit that the surprise her new behaviour was causing in the men gave her a secret thrill.

She made her way down to the clinics, where House was bound to be insulting some patient or another. Finding the correct room, she knocked lightly on the door. No one answered, but she could hear House's harassed and aggravated tones through the door. Uh oh. Taking a chance, she let herself into the room. House was pacing the small floorspace with his cane, every step causing a small wince of pain to cross his face. The patient was an older man of about mid-fifties, and he stood on the other side of the examination bench, nearer to the door.

The argument seemed to be centered around the fact that the patient wanted a prescription for heavy medication, and House wouldn't give it to him. Cameron decided that maybe she should try to play peacemaker.

"Doctor House," She began, but got no further. The patient grabbed her by the front of her coat so as he could place her in front of himself and pressed a small knife that he had somehow managed to sneak into the hospital against her throat.

"Now," he growled, "give me the damn pills!" Cameron cast a hopeful glance at the door, but it had fallen closed. The man's breath puffed against the side of her face and stank of alcohol. Trying to remain still, she turned fearful eyes to House as the knife pricked her neck. His jaw was clenched tight, and his blue eyes were as hard and freezing as ice.

"What a cute knife," He snickered, but his eyes weren't laughing, "but I don't think you'll get the boy scout badge for this kind of use."

"Shut up!" The man bit off. "Do what I say, or I swear this bitch will get it!" Cameron's body began to shake, and with each tremor the knife pricked more. She could feel a welling of blood begin to travel down her neck.

"Alright, calm down. I'll get you your damn pills since you're being such a baby about it." He turned toward a cupboard and began to rifle through it for something. When all he withdrew was a pad of paper, the man became angry again and the knife bit in some more.

"What the hell is this?!" He demanded.

"This here, little idiot, is what we call a prescription pad. We don't keep the pills in the room, jack ass." He was pressing so hard that Cameron couldn't breathe very well anymore. She began to struggle with the man, trying to relieve the pressure. While he was distracted by her, suddenly House crashed his cane into the man's head with all of his might.

The patient fell to the floor, blessedly unconscious. House opened up the door to yell for security, then came over to Cameron. He grabbed her by the face with one hand to lift her chin, and used the other to press the tails of his rumpled button-up shirt against her wound.

"This is going to take some stitches..." He muttered, more to himself. As the security dealt with the once again conscious patient, House forced her to sit upon the examination bench so he could stitch her up. All the while that he worked on her, he mumbled about 'jack asses' and 'interfering women'. Cameron badly wanted to laugh at that, but she was still to shaken from the encounter. Her body still trembled in soft shocks, and she was fighting not to lose her composure.

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House took one look into her eyes, and could see she was going into shock. Hell, he felt almost as if he were, as well. Deciding that he needed to get her away from the crowds of people now milling around, he pulled her along to his quiet office. She followed him silently and obediently, quite at odds with her bold behaviour of that morning. He found he didn't like the change. He placed her in a plush armchair, and wrapped a blanket tightly around her to chase away the chills that were still shaking her body. He ran his hands briskly up and down her arms to try to calm her quaking.

"When I decided I wanted a little more excitement in my day..." She left the thought to hang, trying to make light of the situation. Her eyes were still wide and frightened, the gauze collar around her neck a reminder of how horribly wrong the situation could have turned. At just the thought of her coming to more harm, the fear struck inside him again. He had been terrified in the exam room when that bastard had grabbed her, to see the blood leak out of her like that. Then, to have that blood on his own hands. He hid the fear the only way he knew how.

"You're such a pain in the ass, Cameron." She chuckled a little, easing the tension in his chest a small bit.

"I live for it. I'm here purposely to make your day a living hell. Lucky you, huh?" Her eyes began to drift closed. As she fell into sleep, he whispered "I guess I don't mind so much."

Chase, Foreman, Wilson and Cuddy all marched into his office, demanding to know what had happened. House threw them a dirty look for being so loud.

"Will you all shut up?!" He furiously whispered. He ushered them all out from where Cameron slept. They threw curious glances from House to Cameron and back again. Cuddy eased herself back against the door frame with a considering look in her eyes. House went through what had happened in the exam room step-by-step, and by the end of the telling he felt completely exhausted.

"But why did she fall asleep so quickly?" Cuddy's voice clearly told of suspicion. House felt warmth creep up his neck as he made his admission, not that anyone would notice.

"While I was injecting the freezing to stitch her up, I may have given her a little something extra to calm her down."

"Without her knowledge, I assume." He looked non-plussed.

"Of course. What do you take me for? Moral?" He quickly shooed the men away, but Cuddy was proving to be more difficult. She remained behind the others, and House inwardly groaned.

"What are you going to do with her?" She demanded. House rolled his eyes.

"Well, after you scoot along, I thought I might take wicked advantage of her in her sleep, then leave her on the doorstep to Hooters." Cuddy just continued to silently aim her level stare at him. "Oh, fine. Since you're being such a downer, I won't leaver her at Hooters." Cuddy still didn't say a word. "Christ, I'm taking her home!"

"WHOSE home?" He looked surprised.

"Hers. Where else would I take her?" Cuddy turned to leave but threw one last remark over her shoulder.

"Don't care too much for her, House. You'll just end up more bitter. If that's possible." She walked out of the room, and he returned to his office where Cameron lay. He gazed down at her for awhile, brow furrowed in thought.


	3. Dangerous Impulses

Cameron slowly woke, feeling well rested and refreshed. That is, until she moved. The stitches were a little pull on her neck, reminding her of the terrible events of the day before. Her brain still a little foggy, she tried to sort out everything that had happened. She slowly climbed out of bed, and discovered she was wearing only an over-sized t-shirt. A t-shirt that looked suspiciously like...

"Good morning, sunshine." House came limping in with a hot cup of coffee, his eyes roaming over her clinically to check her condition. She wished that it wasn't clinical. But why couldn't she remember how she got home? Then, reality dawned.

"You drugged me!" Her voice was scandalized and shocked. He heaved a large sigh.

"How else would I have been able to sell you to those bikers?"

"Oh!" She burst out furiously. She glanced around for something to throw at him. He came towards her, holding the sides of her face so that he could look at the bandaging on her neck. Her heart did a little flip in her chest, and her anger evaporated. He probably had saved her life yesterday. His face was serious as he looked up into her eyes.

"You're not allowed near the clinics for a month." She waited for the joke, but soon saw that he was not kidding.

"Cut it out, House." She pulled her face away from his hands, before the temptation was too much. "You know I can't stay away from the clinics, it's part of my job."

"Chase or Foreman will take over your clinic duties."

"I'm not going to run and hide and let everyone else do my work for me just because I got hurt. Life goes on." He pressed his lips together in a grim line, but said nothing. "I mean it, Greg. I can handle my own clinic duty." Surprise registered briefly on his face, perhaps at her use of his first name, but it passed quickly.

"Alright," He conceded, "you can deal with the snotty-nosed kids." He handed her the cup of coffee, while pushing her to sit on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her with his own mug of coffee, and the two of them drank in silence for awhile.

She wondered why he was there, and he tried not to stare at her legs.

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House concentrated on his coffee, but his rebellious eyes kept sneaking glances over to her bare thighs. His old shirt barely covered her where it counted, and it was distracting as hell. He should have never put it on her, but he hadn't wanted to go digging through her things. He couldn't have left her in her clothes, they had been covered in blood. He saw her glance down at the tails of his button-up shirt that he still wore, noticing the stains from when he had used them to stem the blood flow from her neck. Her eyes seemed to have gone... soft, almost.

"I never did thank you," She softly started, and his gut clenched, "for everything you did yesterday."

"You don't have to," His voice was more gruff than he'd meant it to be, but she was affecting him, damn it all. He placed their empty mugs on the floor while he tried to think of a sarcastic comment to wipe the soft look off her face. That look was making it very hard for him to keep focused. He turned toward her, intending to say something smart-assed, but all that he could do was stare. Her face was just an inch away from his own, and he lost all thought.

Grabbing her shoulders, he pressed his lips against her own, registering the shock that flashed into her eyes just before they drifted closed. She was warm and soft from sleep, and seeing her in his shirt had done crazy things to him. He tried to tell himself to stop, to let her go, but his body didn't want to listen. He kissed her as though he was a starving man, and her response nearly drove him crazy.

He slowly lowered her to the bed, easing himself above her. The feeling was incredible, and seemed like a soothing stroke against his frazzled nerves. She was whole and alive, touching her reinforcing that fact in his turbulent thoughts. He had been worried out of his mind the day before, but like hell he was going to let anyone else know that.

As his hand began to sneak its way up her thigh, she gave a small whimper of pain. The sound stopped him short, and he realized that she must have pulled on her stitches. All at once, his senses flooded back to him and he jumped up off the bed. He ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair while he stared at her upon the bed. He was badly tempted to just forget about everything and crawl back on there with her, but sanity won out. He escaped to the kitchen to begin some breakfast and to try and let his protesting body calm down.


	4. Fighting Temptation

Cameron lay on the bed in stunned silence. Had that just really happened? She had honestly been thinking that House was only ever going to see her as an annoyance, and then that happened. And oh boy, could that man kiss. She slowly sat up, trying to get her scrambled thoughts in order. Not knowing what else to do, she began to get dressed. Deciding to hell with looking professional for the day, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft grey cotton t-shirt. Beside, if House could get away with dressing like this, than so could she.

She entered the kitchen to the sight of him standing over a frying pan, apparently attempting to make french toast. A smile twitched at the corners of her lips, but she suppressed it. She didn't want him to think that she was laughing at him.

"Here." He jerked around almost comically at the sound of her voice, and avoided looking her in the eye by staring at his t-shirt that she held out to him.

"Uh, thanks." He took the shirt and began to unbutton the one he still wore. Cameron got a quick glimpse of a very attractive male chest as he put the t-shirt on, and she swallowed hard. What she wouldn't give to continue where they had left off in the bedroom, but it was obvious that he was regretting what had happened. Cameron tried to ignore the quick flash of hurt that came from that.

They ate a slightly scorched breakfast in silence, the two of them on edge about what had happened.

"Well," He sighed out, "I've got to go." Cameron stood up with him, and began putting on a light denim jacket. "What are you doing?!" She looked at him in surprise.

"I'm going to work."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." Her voice was firm. "We had this discussion already, I recall. I'm not letting something like this stop me from doing my job." She could see that he wanted to argue with her. Instead of giving him the chance, she headed toward the door.

"Fine," He conceded, "you can go and play in the labs. But nothing more strenuous than that." At her harassed look, he kept firm. "I mean it, Your Highness. And I don't want you driving yourself, either." Cameron rolled her eyes, but gave in. Secretly, she liked the fact that House seemed to be worried about her.

He drove them to work in his car, and practically stayed glued to her side until they reached the meeting room. Chase, Foreman and Wilson were all seated around the table, and the conversation stopped as they entered the room. They glanced curiously at House, and she wondered just what they had been told about the events of the day before. House dragged off his button-up shirt and threw it in a bio-hazard waste bucket, because of her blood that was still on it, no doubt.

"So ladies," He directed toward the men, "where are we with the pint-sized fairy's problem?" Chase and Foreman eased as they began discussing the treatment that appeared to be working on little Taylor. Nodding his head, House gave them their assignments for the day.

"Oh, and Wilson," He said as Chase and Foreman were about to leave, "run a pregnancy test on Cameron, will you?" Every face in the room registered shock. They all exclaimed "What?!", including herself. House gave them all a seemingly blank stare.

"What? She was drugged and passed out, I couldn't help myself. Oh, and the stitches in her neck... those are just hot." They all relaxed with a little laugh and went on their way. Cameron realized that House had recognized what the conversation had been about before they had walked into the room, and had told the men in his own little way that nothing had happened.

Deciding to be her new, bold self again, Cameron let a sultry smirk cross her face. As she headed toward the doorway, she tossed over her shoulder "Trust me, I'm much more fun when I'm awake." She left the room holding back her laughter at the look on his face.

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House dropped heavily into his desk chair, running a hand through his hair. Sweet Jesus, he didn't know how much of this new Cameron he could take before he finally broke down and gave in. She was definitely testing his resolve.

Throughout the day, he focused hard on the problems of his patients to keep his mind off her. It was a difficult thing to do, seeing as how the t-shirt he still wore smelled of her. The light, flowery scent was more addicting than it should have been.


	5. Surrender

The next two weeks passed without major incident outside of the norm, Taylor had been sent home with new medication, and there had been no more psychotic, knife-wielding clinic patients to deal with, thankfully. House took a careful look at Cameron's stitches, wanting to be sure she was properly healed before he took them out.

"I could just do this myself, you know." She muttered. House decided to keep his thoughts to himself as he found a thin pair of scissors to cut the stitches with. He had gotten more and more silent over the last two weeks, barely a sarcastic comment to be heard. He knew that the others thought he was getting sick or something, but the reality was that he was entirely too healthy for his own good. Cameron had been flitting around him every day, and the memories of how she had felt beneath him that one morning had tormented him ruthlessly.

He finished removing her stitches, feeling a strange inward pull at the realization that she would now have a hell of an ugly scar that would forever slash across the side of her neck.

"You're going to have one hell of a scar there, the guy who owns the scarf shop will be your new best friend." A small smile worked its way across those cherry lips as she shook her head.

"I'm not going to try and hide it." She said. At his blank look, she attempted to explain. "It's a story, at least. It's not like it's something to be ashamed of. Besides, I hate scarves." She smiled as she stood up from the exam bench of the clinic room they were in. House reluctantly stood up as well, his leg was throbbing with pain yet again. He leaned heavily on his cane, and he saw that she noticed that. She didn't say anything, merely threw him a worried glance, for which he was secretly grateful. He hated it when people were constantly asking him if he was okay.

"I'll... uh... give you a ride home at six o'clock." For the past two weeks, he had refused to let her drive herself to work; he picked her up every morning, and took her home every night. Her stitches now being out took away the necessity of what had become a comfortable routine. She smiled again, but only said a quiet "Okay" before leaving the exam room. House had to shake his head over his behaviour. He was too old for these teenage feelings, and he sure as hell shouldn't be having them towards Cameron.

Rubbing a hand across his weary eyes, he got up to find his next patient. No doubt it would be some snot-nosed brat, or a lazy joe-shmoe who wants to get out of work. When the patient was led in, he knew he was in for some entertainment. It was a teenage boy, with a neon green mohawk and a chain that hung from a ring in his nose down to a leather band around his wrist.

"Let me guess, you got a paper cut at Bible camp." The kid threw him a dirty look, but stayed silent. "So, why don't you tell me..." He reached for the file folder to look up the kid's name.

"Thrasher." The kid sullenly supplied. House held back the laughter that so badly wanted to break free.

"Right. So why don't you tell me, Thrasher, what your problem is so that you can get back to your Barbie dolls?" He was sent another glare, but the kid still wouldn't talk. "Come on, what is it? Drank too much gasoline? Kinky sex too rough? What?" The kid took a sighing breath, and stared at the floor as he told the story of how his nipples had been burnt while hooked up with alligator clamps to a high voltage battery. It seemed this was something him and his friends did on a regular basis, but this time Sparky the Boy Genius had ended up a little extra crispy.

House chuckled to himself as he sent the kid off with the name of a good burn salve. This is what the future world leaders did in their spare time? He just hoped that by some miracle he'd be dead by the time that 'Thrasher' got any more power behind him aside from that of lighting a light bulb. Still shaking his head over the situation, he went to meet Cameron at his motorcycle. They got themselves arranged, with her seated snugly behind him. He had been too distracted that morning to notice the way that her hold around his waist forced her body tight to his, or how her hands gripped his jeans low on his hips.

He sure as hell noticed now. He had to fight to keep his mind on the road as they made their way to her apartment. House had just parked the bike and was mentally chastising himself for his wayward thoughts when a spasm of pain in his leg caused him to grunt in reaction and wince. Cameron was immediately coming around to see what the problem was.

"Come on," She said, "take a load off in my apartment for a minute or two." He shook his head, but she only reached for him and his cane, and began to slowly lead him into her apartment. "You aren't driving when you're like this, so just come in and sit down."

"I need my vicodin." She frowned. "No, really. I mean it." He reiterated when he saw her look. Mutely, she went back out to the motorcycle to get the pill bottle out of a compartment. He sat himself on her sofa as he waited for her return.

"Here you go." She frowned again when she saw him take three of the pills. "You shouldn't have so many." She chided. He leaned his head back against the sofa an closed his eyes. He could feel her sit beside him on the couch, but the pain was consuming all of his concentration. As the heavy dose of the drug kicked in, he unwittingly drifted off to sleep.


	6. Needless Thoughts

"Alison." Cameron thought she heard her name, but was unwilling to open her eyes to see who was calling her. She was snuggled up to something warm, and did not want to get up. She felt a roughly calloused hand cradle the left side of her face. "Alison." She slowly opened her eyes, and found herself staring into the devastatingly blue depths of his. His eyes mirrored the fogginess of sleep that was surely in hers as well. Glancing down the length of the couch, it appeared that the two of them had fallen asleep, somehow working their way into laying down together. One of House's thighs was wedged in between hers, and his large hand still cradled her face.

She pressed herself closer to him, unwillingly to give up being with him so soon. She felt his chest expand on a sigh, and he bent forward to place his lips against her forehead.

"I'm going straight to hell..." He murmured. She drew away to look at him quizzically, but he merely pulled her close again to press his lips to her own. The feeling between them quickly flamed out of control, and Cameron forked her fingers through his thick hair in order to hold him in place as she did her part of the ravaging. Their pace was quick and torrid, all the better to satisfy the long denied lust between them. All time was lost as they threw caution to the wind and indulged themselves.

Later, when their senses had slowly returned to them, he laid atop her with his head resting against her shoulder. As the silence stretched, Cameron began to worry about what thoughts were now chasing themselves around in his brain. He slowly sat up, but did not look her in the eye. Instead, he pulled her up with him, and led them into the bedroom. There, they climbed into bed together and laid silently in the darkness until sleep overcame them again.

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House stared blankly at the cup of coffee cooling on his desk. Thoughts of the night before tormented him, and his brain would not leave him in peace. Neither would his guilt. He'd had no right to touch her, no right to feel the way that he was.

She was young and beautiful, she didn't deserve to be stuck with a useless old cripple like him. He shook his head over his thoughts. Who had said anything about her being stuck with him? She was only looking for some fun, probably, and he guessed that she felt safe with him because she knew him. She wasn't really looking for something serious. She couldn't be, not with him.

He glanced up when he heard someone walk into the room. Just as he feared. Cameron's face greeted him, but she wore a quietly serious expression.

"I appear to have missed you this morning when I woke up." Though she tried to hide it, he could hear the hurt in her voice. He had woken up that morning intertwined with her, and the feelings that had chased around inside of him had, to be honest, scared him all to hell. He had left without waking her, and he knew now that she wouldn't want to hear his excuses. Instead, he remained silent and watchful.

"The sad thing is, deep down I'd known that you wouldn't be there." She shook her head and left the office to sit in the meeting room. House remained where he was, and lowered his eyes to the floor. For the first time in his life, he had no plan... no clue what he should do to handle the situation.

He had no idea how long he sat there, staring off into space, until Chase came into the office.

"What?!" House grumbled.

"Uh... we're waiting on you for this morning's discussion..." Chase hovered hesitantly at the doorway. House heaved a weary sigh before stiffly getting up out of his chair.


	7. Let The Games Begin

It had been torture. Pure, unadulterated, hellish torture. House leaned heavily on his cane while waiting for the damn elevator to open up. Three months had passed since that absolute _failure_ of a morning-after with Cameron. She had reverted back into her quiet, rigidly proper and polite behaviour, and avoided him pretty much as often as she could get away with it. House sighed to himself, mulling it all over in his chaotic mind. There really was only one thing to say about the whole situation, if he was going to be honest with himself. Simply put, he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

The elevator finally decided to make an appearance, and he wearily limped his way inside. All he wanted to do was make it to his office so that he could get some peace and quiet. He was supposed to be down in this clinics, but didn't have the stamina right now to listen to the monotonous complaints of annoying patients. Let Cuddy bitch about it later, he didn't care.

He glanced through the window of the door to his office, and his hand paused in its reach for the handle. _She was there_. Cameron was sitting on top of his desk, her hands gripping the edge of it on either side of her. She seemed lost in thought, as if she was staring off into space. His eyes hungrily ran over her form, and it hit into him again how she had felt beneath him that day... It was like a punch to his solar plexus, almost knocking him over. What he wouldn't give to be able to have her like that again...

Quietly, he slowly opened the door and entered into the room.

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"Isn't there work you should be doing right now?" The voice coming from the door way startled her, and Cameron mentally groaned. He was the _last_ person that she wanted to see.

"Isn't there a clinic patient you should be torturing right now?" She shot back at him. That was the whole reason why she had broken down and come here today, because he was supposed to be at the clinics until the evening. She had missed him so much lately, even more than she had ever thought possible, and had wanted to surround herself with his things, the quiet haven that was his office.

He seemed to grimace a little at her mention of the clinics, but strangely enough had no smart-assed comment to fire back at her. Instead, he merely limped his way into to room and collapsed into his comfy armchair. His face showed new lines of strain that hadn't been there before, and she had perceived how heavily he had been leaning on his cane. A small twinge of worry for him ran through her, before the logical side of her mind stepped in. _Don't you go caring about him,_ it chastised, _it's his own damn fault for the way everything turned out._

Cameron hadn't been surprised that day, when she had woken up and found him gone. She had hoped, of course, that maybe she could be enough for him... but in the end, it was just that: hoping. House would never change his stubborn ways unless he wanted to, and there was nothing that she could do about that. And despite all of this, she still loved him. Lord help her, she did.

Her, and her foolishly stupid love for him, was precisely what had gotten her into her newest predicament. She had to tell him... even if she didn't, he would figure it out soon enough. Telling him was the right thing to do.

And yet, she still hesitated. By telling him, she was only going to succeed in pushing him further away than he already was. Could she really stand that? The debate raged on in her mind, and she still didn't know what to do.

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House glanced up at her face surreptitiously, and noticed that she was once again staring out into space. She seemed to be thinking really hard about something, and was chewing on her plush bottom lip. He watched her teeth press into the supple flesh, and couldn't help but stare. Christ, he missed her. He hardly even wanted to admit it to himself, but it was there nonetheless.

What the hell had happened to him? He'd had no problems before with making his way through life not needing anyone. He'd _liked_ it that way. He'd been _happy_ that way. And then she came along and messed it all up, and made him start feeling like some sappy teenager. It was disgusting, really. He shook his head at his thoughts, and noted that the movement seemed to catch her eye and draw her out of her reverie.

"Cameron," He began, though he didn't really know what he was going to say. She quirked an eyebrow at him, but remained silent. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Will you come over tonight?" Her face registered a small look of shock, and he had to agree. Where the hell had that come from? Hadn't he just been telling himself that he didn't need anyone?

"Why?" She demanded. Her level stare was making him feel almost like a ten year old that had been sent to the principal's office. He was **not** intimidated by her. No, not at all.

"I want you to put on leathers, chain me up and call me your bitch." He rolled his eyes at the expression on her face. "Oh, for fuck's sakes Cameron... I want to talk to you." He let out what seemed to be an exasperated growl when his traitor of a mind starting picturing what Cameron in leather would look like. _Down, boy._

A look almost akin to panic entered her eyes. "What do we need to talk about?!" She almost squeaked out, while her hands clenched on the edge of the desk. Interesting. House's eyes narrowed as he took in her reaction. What did she think they had to talk about? Obviously, there was something... something she wasn't telling him?

He leaned further back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face. "Be at my place for eight." Without another word, he stood up and limped his way out of the office. Maybe if she thought that he knew about whatever little secret she was keeping, she would show up. A small grin that hadn't graced his face at all these past months made an appearance. Maybe he could have a little fun with this.

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**A/N: Yay, I finally got another Chapter put up!**

**Being sick + missing school = lots of time to be a lazy ass and write!**

**Please review, I really like seeing people's opinions, plus I'd love any suggestions**

**on where you might want this to go! I'm open to new ideas!  
**


	8. Lets Go For Round 2

**A/N: Huzzah, another chapter for my lovely readers! **

**What can I say, I'm on a roll. For reals.**

**Enjoy!**

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No way in freaking hell. Absolutely not. She was NOT going to House's tonight, not even under threat of death. Cameron bit her lip as she thought about the dilemma. There was no way she was going to voluntarily go over there and be interrogated by the craftiest son of a bitch she knew. Not a chance.

God, she wanted to see him though.

What was a girl to do?

--------------------------------

When he heard the doorbell go off, House smirked to himself. He'd known that she wouldn't be able to resist. He left the smirk still firmly planted on his face while he opened up the door, only to reveal Cameron standing there looking as if it were Judgment Day and she the lowliest kind of sinner. Or like she had just been told her puppy died. House couldn't help it... he laughed.

"What the hell is so funny?!" She growled at him with a fierce frown. To him, it was like a kitten trying to impersonate a tiger. He laughed harder.

Throwing him a dirty look, she pushed him out of her way and went inside to flop down dejectedly on his sofa. "Lets just get this over with. What did you want to talk about?" The pout on her face was driving him to distraction. _Focus, man!_

He limped his way over to the sofa to sit beside her. "Well," He began, "I invited over a lovely young girl I met on the street last night named Taffy, I thought the three of us could find something interesting to do tonight." She threw him a disgusted look, and he hid his laughter. "D'you think that's her real name?" He mused, just to see what she'd say. When she didn't say anything, he sent her as innocent of a look as someone like him could manage. "No? I didn't think it was either."

"Alright," She ground out, "that's it. I'm out of here." She jerked away from the sofa and began to stomp towards the door. House rolled his eyes behind her back. She used to be more fun than this.

"Caaaaamerooooon...." He called. She continued to ignore him. "Alright, alright. Leave the Drama Queen title for Chase and come sit down again." She slowly turned around.

"I swear to God, House... I WILL leave." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

"You shouldn't swear at God, I've heard he doesn't like that kind of thing... oh, but who knows? Maybe God can get kinky like that." She seemed to be trying to keep a smile from appearing, so he figured that one had finally gotten her to loosen up.

_House one, Cameron zero._

----------------------------

She sighed and reluctantly went to go sit down next to him again. The man had wit that rivaled no one. She shifted a little further away from him on the sofa, being pressed up against him was just too tempting for her. Did he always smell that good? She waited anxiously for him to get to the point of what he wanted to talk to her about. He couldn't actually have figured it out already, could he? No, that couldn't be it, he must have something else to talk about.

Abruptly, his face turned serious. God, she loved it when he got serious, it was so rare. His icy blue eyes stared into her own, and she felt her breath catch. _Get a hold of yourself, girl_. She watched as he rubbed a hand across his face, suddenly appearing tired and worn out. Could she hope that maybe these last three months had been just as difficult for him as they had been for her?

"Cameron," He began, but paused as if he was trying to sort out everything in his mind. She waited patiently for him to continue. "Cameron... I'm an asshole." She raised a brow. Definitely _not_ what she had been expecting him to say.

"I'm well aware." She dryly replied. Just what was he trying to say? He threw her a look that she couldn't quite read.

"Look, I didn't want... That morning... Well, it's like this..." She couldn't believe her ears. Gregory-freaking-House was stuttering. Hell just officially froze over. She felt her lips twitch with a smile, and instantly suppressed it. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was laughing at him and get his male ego in a twist... men could be such babies sometimes.

"I'll take a stab at it, shall I?" She spoke up. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You woke up, thought to yourself 'What the hell did I just do?', got scared, and then ran home. Correct?" She swore she saw a little bit of red come into his cheeks.

"Well, when you put it like that, I don't sound like the sexy-angsty hero of the story anymore." His eyes narrowed, and Cameron was pretty sure this was as close to pouting as a man like House could come. Oh boy, did she want to laugh.

"Look," She sighed out the word, while she tried to find a way to explain how she felt, "I thought about it a lot, and realized that the whole thing had probably pushed you way past your comfort zone... I guess I can't really blame you, even if I didn't like it." She sighed again. Was this the right moment to tell him about her problem? She looked again at his face, and decided it wasn't. He actually looked... guilty right then. That surprised her.

He just continued to stare at her, and she was starting to get uncomfortable. Had she said something wrong? She waved a hand in front of his face and said, "Uh... House?" He reached up and gripped her wrist, without looking away. She saw his eyes narrow, and wondered what she had said to make him mad.

That was when he pulled hard enough on her arm to throw her body forward and into his. Before she had time to think, his mouth was on hers... and tasted just as good as she remembered. It had been a long three months. She felt his fingers squeeze around her wrist harder, while his other hand slid up the back of her shirt. Just when she had resigned herself to giving him up, he kisses her?

Well... shit.


	9. Medicine and Mystery

**A/N: Oh man, I'm such a delinquent! School + exams + pneumonia = no writing time.**

**But, the good news is, I finally got over the pneumonia! Huzzah.**

**So, sorry you guys had to wait so long for this, but I hope it will satisfy for the mean time! :)  
**

* * *

What in the world was going on? Cameron decided not to worry about it, and just keep on kissing House. She liked kissing House.

She felt his fingers thread through her hair to grip her tightly to him, and moaned at the feeling of all that passion. All that passion that was there for _her_.

And just as she was beginning to enjoy herself, House's cell phone rang.

"Ignore it." She muttered, and raised herself slightly above him to change the angle of the kiss.

"Damn right, I will." He breathed back. She felt one of his cool hands slide up the back of her shirt, and snap open the clasp on her bra. _Oh yes, thank God_.

The phone buzzed again, and they both turned their heads to look at the loathsome thing. Cameron sighed, the mood having been broken. She waved her hand at the phone, and sat back against the sofa. He shot her a look, then answered.

"What?!" He barked. She smiled at the thought that he must have been just as upset at the interruption as her. Her smile disappeared when she saw the serious look come onto his face. Uh oh. That looks was _never_ a good sign. Cameron could hear a frantic voice come from the phone, but couldn't tell what they were saying. "And I should care _why, _Jimmy?" Ah. It was Wilson.

Knowing that it was probably important, and also knowing that House would blow him off if she was still there, Cameron put her clothing to rights and stood up off the sofa. He was staring hard at the coffee table, concentrating on whatever Wilson was telling him. Grabbing her purse, she began to move past him to the front door.

As she went by, she felt his hand wrap around her wrist and grip her hard enough to stop her movement. She looked back and him, losing herself in the beautiful blue of his eyes. He stared back at her with no hint of any lightness... just a silent, serious stare. Beginning to feel like he could read her from the inside out, she gently tugged on her captive hand and raised an eyebrow at him. She tilted her head toward the door, as if to silently say _Let me go._

"Yeah... whatever. You can come over. You better bring me a good bottle of scotch." Cameron smiled, knowing that Wilson had probably called about a personal problem, and wanted to talk it out over some liquor with House. All the more reason for her to leave, she didn't want to take that time away from Wilson when it sounded like he needed it.

He slowly let go of her wrist, as if he still wasn't quite sure that he wanted to let her go yet, and without a word she walked out his front door. The night had been strange, but she was sure they would make an attempt at a 'talk' again some other time.

She wasn't really complaining, having been given a reprieve from making her confession. She still wasn't sure what exactly would be the right way to tell him. The thought terrified her.

----------------------

House glanced over at where Wilson was passed out on the couch and scowled. Damn Wilson and his petty relationship problems getting in the way. He thought about his own 'relationship problem', and cringed a little. He was definitely going to need more scotch.

What the hell had he been thinking, to kiss her again when he had been so determined to give her up for her own good. He _hadn't_ been thinking, that was the problem. Or, at least, he hadn't been thinking with the proper part of his anatomy. What was it about her that made it so hard to resist?

House rubbed a hand hard over his face, suddenly tired to the bone. He didn't know what the hell was going on with him. Three months without her had made him miserable. He couldn't be with her, because she was sunshine and kittens and he was sickness and death. Being with him would kill her beautiful soul, of that he had no doubt at all. Why was it so damn hard?

Downing more of the scotch, he leaned his head against the back of the chair he was in. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Sometimes she was smiling, sometimes she was frowning in concentration, sometimes giving him that saucy glare that she had developed so well. But, most of the time, he saw that hurt look on her face that morning after he had made the biggest mistake of his life and slept with her.

It was a mistake because now he couldn't get enough of her. She was in his blood, like an addiction that he couldn't shake. He craved her presence, even if it was just her standing there boldly telling him to go to hell. He needed...

No. House shook his head vehemently. He did **not** need her. He didn't need anyone. The thought left him with an empty feeling inside that he had never noticed before, but he tried to ignore it. He was getting too old for this shit.

The next morning he woke up with a hangover, and his thoughts were still a snarl of confusion. He had no idea what he was going to do about Cameron. None at all. As he limped his way into the meeting room, he was greeted by the sight of everyone patiently waiting around the table for him. His frown darkened. He could have used a couple minutes of quiet to try and get the monkeys playing drums in his head to fuck off.

They began their morning discussion, and he tried to make himself concentrate instead of wallowing in his hangover or staring at Cameron. It was a tough battle. He noticed through the discussion that she seemed to be getting paler and paler as time went on, and wondered if she was sick or something. He had just resolved to push the thought to the back of his mind when she suddenly sprang up out of her seat and flew out the door.

The conversation ground to a complete halt as the men left in the room looked at each other in confusion. What the hell had that been about? Deciding to move past it, House pulled their attention back to him, and continued on with trying to sort out the current patient's weird symptoms. A little while later, Cameron silently slipped back into the room and sat down again. He didn't make a comment about her little disappearing act, and the others didn't bring it up either.

Carefully studying her face while Foreman put forward his theories on the patient's illness, House noticed that she still looked pale, though perhaps not as much as before, and that her eyes were slightly purple underneath. Why hadn't he noticed that last night? Worried about her, but convincing himself that he wasn't, he doled out the day's assignments and decided to do a little snooping.

After everyone took off to do their work, and Cameron was safely at the labs and out of his way, house took a trip down to the locker room and located which one was hers. The padlock on the door wasn't a deterrent to him; he put in the date of her mother's birthday as the code and it sprang open. She really needed to learn how to pick something harder to guess.

Glancing around him, he sneakily began to rummage through the things in her locker. Ten minutes later, the locker had been completely gone through and had turned up... nothing. More confused than before, he closed the door and locked it.

Just what was going on with her?


	10. Fallen Angels

House rubbed a hand over his face, tired to the bone. He _hated_ clinic duty. Damn everyone involved for this ritualistic torture that he had to suffer through. He glanced up when Wilson stuck his head inside the room. _Great_. Just what he needed.

"You look like hell." Wilson said without preamble.

"What can I say? I didn't get time to touch up my make-up at lunch." House's voice was pretty much as snarky as it could get. He did **not** have time for this crap. Wilson only smiled and came further into the room, deciding to do the stupid thing and antagonize him.

"Admit it, House. You're just moping because Cameron was sent away for that conference today, and hasn't been here for you to ogle all day." If he didn't drop that smug tone right that instant, Wilson was going to find himself flat out on the floor. House may be crippled, but he knew he could still take Wilson's pansy ass. His frown got darker.

"Ten seconds, Jimmy." Hearing the threat behind the words, Wilson smiled. He had just opened his mouth, probably to say something else incredibly detrimental to his health, when they heard a large commotion from the front of the hall.

Figuring whatever it was _had_ to be more exciting than listening to Wilson, House began to hobble his way out of the room. There was just enough time for him to see a stretcher go whizzing by, before reality kicked in. The figure on that stretcher had been familiar. _Too_ familiar.

Speeding up, he followed them down the hall, and caught one of the orderlies as the stretcher was whisked into an operating room.

"Was that Dr. Cameron?!" His voice was more panicked than he wanted it to be. The orderly checked the clipboard he held, and slowly nodded his head.

"What the hell happened!" He needed to get a grip on himself, before he completely lost it. Why the hell was she on a stretcher? He hadn't been able to get a good enough look at her to see what was wrong. The orderly cleared his throat, then stared down at his clipboard again. House wanted to knock his teeth out.

"It says here that she was in a car accident, sir."

"What are her injuries?" House was gripping the guy's arm hard enough to bruise him, but the orderly was smart and kept his mouth shut about it.

"She needs to still have a full examination, but at first glance she has a split forehead... and probably a concussion to go with it... and the femoral artery in her right leg was punctured by a piece of glass. They've wheeled her into surgery to get it closed up before she loses any more blood."

House breathed a little easier... it was serious, but not _too_ serious. She'd be out of commission for at least a couple weeks. He allowed himself a small smile. At least the injury on her leg would keep her from trying to come to work.

Rubbing a hand across his suddenly queasy stomach, he decided to wait around and ask about the full extent of her injuries after she got out of surgery. She had scared another twenty years off him just now... and he was too old already to really lose any more.

I seemed like days before she was wheeled into a private room, though it had probably only been a couple hours. As he walked into her room, her attending physician was glancing over her chart.

"Dr. House, I can't say I'm surprised to see you." He didn't look up. House wasn't even sure if he had ever met the guy before, but that wasn't really that unusual.

"Because I like to stick my nose in everywhere?" House smirked. He watched as the doc raised an eyebrow.

"No... because as I understand it, she's a member of your special little play group." Being a connoisseur of it himself, House could appreciate good sarcasm.

"So, what's wrong with her? I heard about the head and the leg, anything else to keep her from work?" The doc glanced over his charts again.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing that she has to rest for the leg to heal, she would need the time in bed anyways. I'm not looking forward to breaking the news when she wakes up." House glanced at Cameron's still and pale face, then back at the doc. He was confused... and a sinking feeling had started to develop in the pit of his stomach.

"News? What do you mean?"

"From the trauma of the accident, her body was put under far too much stress. Unfortunately, due to these factors, she's suffered a _spontaneous abortion_."

".........Come again?!" House's stomach completely plummeted.

"She's had a miscarriage, because of the accident. Must admit, it hadn't really gotten around the hospital that she was even pregnant." House looked back to Cameron's face and its pallor. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.

"Do you know how far along she was?" The doc glanced at him quizzically.

"Approximately three months." House leaned heavily on his cane, feeling as though he was about to fall over. "Listen, I don't mind if you stay in here, but I've got to check up on a few other patients." Without any other words, the guy left House alone with Cameron's unconscious form, and his own demons.

She had been pregnant. Pregnant with his child. And dealing with it all alone, because he had been his usual asshole-ish self these last months. He felt as though he could shoot himself in his own foot right now for what he had unintentionally put her through, but he knew feeling sorry for himself was not going to help anything at the moment.

He knew Cameron. Hadn't he said it before? She was all sunshine and rainbows... finding out that the baby was gone was going to absolutely kill her.

He shuffled himself over to the chair that sat near her head, and heavily fell into it as if his legs just couldn't hold him anymore. Staring at her sleeping face, he cursed himself a hundred times over. Everything he touched became tainted. He just knew that somehow... this was all his fault.

How was she ever going to forgive him?

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**A/N: I know, I know... I'm sorry you guys had to wait awhile for this one.**

**Okay, before you all start chasing me with pitchforks and torches, I will say that you shouldn't worry. Things will turn out happy in the end. Besides, it wouldn't be House and Cameron if there wasn't something for House to be an angsty bitch over.**

**Review me, but try not to leave nasty ones... puh-puh-puh-leeeeeeease?  
**


	11. What Have You Done Now?

"Fuck. Off. Jimmy." House didn't even glance toward his old annoyance of a friend as Wilson slowly stepped into the room. He couldn't take his eyes off of her… if he did, something terrible would happen, he was sure.

He could see Wilson look him over critically out of the corner of his eye, and House knew what he was seeing. He had been sitting in the chair beside her bed for four days, only leaving to briefly go home to shower and get fresh clothes. He hadn't shaved. He hadn't really slept. He couldn't make himself eat. He couldn't work up the energy to do anything other than stare at her still form, willing her with his eyes to wake up.

_Please, just wake up_.

He knew that they had all figured out by his behaviour that there was _something_ between him and Cameron. No unattached boss-like figure would be as obsessively at her side as he had been. House just didn't rightly give a fuck what any of them thought at the moment. He didn't care about anything that wasn't _her_.

_Open your eyes, baby… just open your eyes._

She hadn't woken at all, since she had been rushed in from the accident. Her attending Doc had assured him that brain activity was normal, that nothing had been damaged. But still, she wouldn't wake up. And it was slowly killing him.

"House…" Wilson took another cautious step toward where he sat, concern written all over his face. "This isn't healthy, you know it. You're going to kill yourself in the process of waiting for her to heal. You need food… a shave. You need to get some sleep." He heard Wilson sigh when it became clear that his words weren't having an impact. "House, listen to me. Cameron wouldn't want you doing this to yourself."

"It's my fault…" House mumbled, more to himself than anything. But Wilson heard him. In the four days since she had been brought in, news of the pregnancy had been effectively hushed. The only people who knew about it at all – let alone the fact that the child had been _his_ – were Wilson and Cuddy. He felt Wilson's hand come down on his shoulder to grip it steadily.

"You didn't cause the car accident, Greg. It's not your fault that any of this happened." If he'd had the energy, House would have rolled his eyes at that.

"I _know_ that, Jimmy. But what she'll go through when she wakes up and realizes what happened **is** my fault." He saw Wilson silently shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

"Come on, you need to get out of here for awhile." Wilson pulled so steadily on his arm that House took the easy road and just let himself be led out of the room.

_What have I done to her?_

--------------------------------

It hovered there, just on the edge of her consciousness. Whispers were dragging at her, telling her to come alive. She fought the temptation of them, wanting to stay in the cool darkness for just awhile longer… just a bit longer.

If she followed them, she would find light. Somehow, she instinctively knew this. Piercing, blinding, harsh, hurting light. She didn't want that. She wanted the dark. Deep, soft, velvety darkness.

She curled into herself, reaching to protect her one most important thing. Disquiet shivered over her when she couldn't find it. Where was it? She tried again, looking for the little piece of herself. Of herself and _him_. She reached and she searched… and panic set in. _It was gone_.

Cameron's eyes snapped open to the blindingly bright world of the hospital room.

---------------------------------

House sat in the armchair in his office, glaring daggers out of his eyes at Wilson and Cuddy. He saw them share a relieved glance, and he knew why. This anger was the first emotion he had really shown in four days. Well, fine. If they wanted anger, he could bloody well give them anger.

"Let me go back." At the moment, his voice was barely controlled. Cuddy shook her head at him, giving him one of those I'm-sympathetic-but-I'm-still-going-to-fuck-you-over glances of hers.

"House," She said. "You need to relax. You need to take some time to get yourself back into decent shape, maybe talk to one of the staff psych's." His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I don't need to talk to one of your pet head-crackers, Cuddy. I need to be there when she wakes up!" Cuddy lanced him with a steely glare, while Wilson stood silent behind her.

"House, I _will_ make you take sick leave for your own mental health. Don't push me." He opened his mouth to throw a venomous retort back at her, when the phone on his desk rang. He lunged for it, but Wilson got there first. He watched as Wilson's eyes widened a little, and he felt his heartbeat speed up. Wilson turned to look at him after hanging up the phone.

"She's awake."

-----------------------------------

Cameron glanced around the hospital room, taking in the various monitors that she was hooked up to, and wincing when she shifted her damaged leg that was still healing. The staff that had been in to examine her when they discovered that she was conscious again had dissipated, much to her relief.

Her head hurt terribly. The light was harsh on her eyes, only aggravating her pain. She leaned as far as she could over the side of her bed to grasp the cord for the blinds in her fingertips, and gave a small jerk on the string that made them slide down into place.

She sat back with a sigh of relief as the light was blocked out, and the room was blanketed in shadow. Unconsciously, her hand slid over top of her stomach and rested there protectively. She felt a stab of sadness go through her, a recollection from her dream-state flickering at the edge of her thoughts.

Something had gone wrong, she knew. She glanced down at where her hand rested and fought off a bought of tears. She had a very bad feeling that she knew exactly _what_ it was that had gone wrong… and she hoped with all of her heart that it wasn't true.

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House thundered into her hospital room as quickly as his limp would allow, preceded by Wilson and Cuddy, who could move faster. His gaze drank in the sight of her sitting up against the raised bed, her eyes open and aware.

There was a stab of relief in his chest, and a prick of tears at his eyes. _Ridiculous_. Gregory House did _not_ cry. The three of them stopped at the foot of her bed, and her eyes landed on Wilson first.

"Wilson…" She sighed with a note of relief.

"How are you feeling?" Wilson still sounded like your typical doctor when he asked. House watched as her face scrunched up adorably at the question.

"I wish people would stop asking me that…" She laughed a little, but there was no real note of humour in her voice. She looked at him seriously for a moment. "Wilson, tell me the truth… it's gone, isn't it." House felt as though the heart he wasn't sure he actually had just broke at her words.

"Yes, Cameron… I'm sorry." She nodded her head, and quiet tears began to fall down her face. Right at that moment, he would have given anything he had to make it so that she didn't need to cry.

Cuddy walked over to her side, and placed a gentle arm around Cameron's shoulder. House supposed this had something to do with feminine understanding or some such thing. He took a step forward, afraid of what she would say to him. Would she blame him for it all, like she should?

"Cameron…" His voiced sounded rusty to his own ears. She glanced up at him, and he prepared himself for the worst. A perplexed look washed over her face through her quiet misery.

"…Do I know you?"

And just like that, House's world ended. Cuddy and Wilson stared at her in shock, as House weakly leaned back against the wall behind him. Wilson glanced at him, and then back at her.

"Cameron… you know who I am?" She looked at him as if he were insane.

"Of course I do, Wilson."

"And… do you know who she is?" He asked slowly, pointing at Cuddy. The frown in between her eyes grew fiercer.

"Yeeees…" She stretched the word out, as if she was unsure of where he was going with it. Wilson swallowed and pointed at House.

"But you don't know who he is?" She glanced over at him again, and the non-recognition in her eyes just about did him in.

"No…" She glanced back at Wilson, a note of alarm entering her voice. "Should I?" Wilson swallowed again, before speaking hesitantly.

"Cameron… forgive the insensitivity of this question, but… who was the father of your child?" House couldn't force his eyes away from her face while he waited to hear her answer. They all knew without a doubt that the child had been his, between the timing and the fact that Cameron just wasn't the type of woman to sleep around. She frowned again.

"Well, it was…" She stopped mid-sentence, tilting her head to the side as she seemed to think hard on the question. "It was…" She looked up again, panicked tears in her eyes, alarm written all over her face. "I… I can't remember who it was! How is that possible!?"

The tight reign that House had kept over his turbulent emotions finally snapped. He slammed his fist into the wall with a roar of mixed pain, confusion and anger, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

**A/N: First thing's first - I am sooooo sorry that I haven't updated this in forever! I just couldn't find the drive for it. I'm hoping to get back to it a little more regularly, so have no fear. **

**Sorry that this one's kind of short, but it was either make it two short parts or one ridiculously long one... and I'm slacker-happy, so I chose the not-long method. I should get the next part put up in a couple days or so. **

**Please please review and let me know what you guys think! (And yes, I have a plan for where I'm going with the whole "Cameron can't remember shit about House" thing)  
**


	12. Second Impressions

"Dissassociative Amnesia." Cameron stared at her doctor, while she tried to make her brain work. She couldn't believe what had happened. How was it possible that she could forget only _one_ aspect of her life?

"What… what does that…?" She didn't feel like her normally calm and rational self; between the car accident and now this bigger issue of her apparently _very_ selective memory loss, she just couldn't seem to get a handle on it all. The doctor continued on with an explanation.

"It's not as a result to any injury, the cause is a purely psychological one. Dissociative amnesia occurs when a person blocks out certain information, usually associated with a stressful or traumatic event, leaving him or her unable to remember important personal information." She must have had some kind of disbelieving look on her face, because he hurried to explain further.

"It is fairly different from general amnesia, Doctor Cameron. In this condition, the memories still exist but are deeply buried within the person's mind and can't be recalled. However, the memories might resurface on their own or after being triggered by something in the person's surroundings. So, my suggestion would be to immerse yourself as much as you can in what _is_ familiar to you, and hopefully something will serve as your trigger." Cameron had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She highly doubted that it would be that easy.

She felt Wilson's hand grip her shoulder, his silent way of giving comfort. She glanced up at him, and Cuddy beside him, and wondered how this was all going to pan out. She decided that she would do her best to remain as optimistic as possible about it all. She _would_ find her 'trigger', and get her memory back. The alternative was just not an option for her. She glanced at Cuddy.

"If I'm supposed to be surrounding myself with familiar things, what if I went back to work?" Cuddy raised a brow at her, and looked ready to argue, so Cameron rushed on with the rest of her reasoning. "I could work in the meeting room, since my leg's still healing, so then I wouldn't be running around. And, plus, if I'm surrounded with the people I usually spend every day with, that might help trigger the memories." She bit her lip a little as Cuddy seemed to consider it. Finally, she sighed and aimed a steely look at Cameron.

"I swear, if you get up out of that chair I will hunt you down and put you right back in this hospital bed. And, I want someone with you all day, just in case." A glint seemed to come into her eye, and Cameron wondered what devious plan had put it there. "You can start tomorrow morning." Cameron smiled happily, convincing herself that this was the right way for her to recover.

The next day, Wilson wheeled her into the meeting room in one of the hospital's wheelchairs. They had brought her some clean clothes from her house, and she felt almost like her old self again. She smiled slightly at the well-wishes she received from Foreman and Chase, and waited patiently for the meeting to begin. It wasn't too much longer until _he_ walked into the room, a sour look upon his face.

Cameron let her eyes run over this man that her brain was trying to convince her she didn't know. He wore a slightly rumpled Led Zeppelin t-shirt, paired with some blue jeans, and limped his way into the room using a cane. A frown drew between her brows as she wondered what was wrong with his leg. Was that normal? Did he always limp, or had he just hurt it somehow and was recovering? She found that it didn't detract from his presence at all. Even though he had limped into the room, he had immediately commanded the attention of everyone present.

He had turned and aimed a level look at her, and Cameron's breath caught at the stunning blue of his eyes. They seemed as though they could see every thought in her head, every feeling in her heart. _If I hadn't been in love with him before_, she thought to herself,_ I sure as hell could be now…_

"So, the Queen has returned to the castle!" There was biting sarcasm in his voice, but Cameron didn't feel a sting. She couldn't help but feel that sarcasm was this man's way of protecting himself… whether he realized it or not. By the unsurprised expressions on Chase and Foreman's faces, she also gathered that they heard these kinds of comments frequently. They began with a discussion of the most recent patient's symptoms, which were puzzling. She watched as Foreman ran a hand over his face wearily.

"Maybe it's lupus…" He sighed. Cameron began shaking her head.

"It's never lupus." All the men in the room turned to stare at her in shock. A frown appeared between her brows, and she looked at Foreman questioningly. "Why did I just say that?" Foreman surprisingly looked as though he was trying to suppress a smile, and Chase had laughed outright. _What's so funny?_ The man, _him_, was aiming a level stare at her, as if trying to figure her out.

"You said that because you're right." He declared, before turning to glare at Foreman. "It's NEVER lupus!"

The rest of the day passed almost too quickly for Cameron. The entire day, _he_ was with her, and she had to assume that he was the watch-dog that Cuddy had set to keep an eye on her. After a few hours, he had seemed to relax somewhat around her, and they had discussed a variety of things. She had asked him some questions about herself in the effort to have something trigger the return of her memory, but nothing had seemed to work. Despite the frustration of that, she had found herself enjoying their discussions. He had a biting wit that she discovered could amuse her to no end.

She had moved just enough during the day to now be sitting atop the meeting room table, while he leaned against the door frame across from her. She'd had to remind herself throughout the day to stop staring at him, but she just couldn't seem to help herself. He seemed to be so miserable… and it made her want to help him. She wanted to see him smile, just once.

"Okay, so even though you hate clinic duty, you must have some funny stories from it. Come on, tell me one." She smiled at him, hoping that he would indulge her. She watched as he sighed, but suddenly his eyes lit up.

"Have you ever seen what happens when a punk with a green dye-job zaps himself with too much electricity?" A small smirk seemed to be flickering to life at the corner of his lips and she held her breath in hope that it would turn into a real smile. She shook her head mutely, willing him to go on. "Apparently it results in extra-crispy nipples." She blinked as she tried to imagine the scene and laughed out-loud.

When she focused on him again, she was treated to a wonderful sight. _Finally_. A smile… a real, genuine smile. She grinned even more at the sight of him smiling at her, and she thought that she saw an uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes. She had been fascinated by this strange man all day, and she was hungry to know more about him.

Why had she forgotten him? The doctor said that trauma and stress were what led to the amnesia, but _what _trauma and stress? There was the accident, yes, but was that enough to do it? Then it clicked into place. _The miscarriage_. Cameron wasn't an idiot; she knew that this man had been the father of her child. She couldn't remember _him_, and she couldn't remember who the father was, so she had logically put two-and-two together. The reason why she couldn't remember either was likely that they were the same person.

The smile disappeared from her face as she pondered the situation again. She was trying not to force herself to remember, because it probably would only make it _harder_ to remember in the long run. The only thing she could assume was that this frustrating dose of Dissassociative Amnesia was her brain's way of coping with the shock of the miscarriage. _How messed up is that?_

She looked up as he moved towards her, probably concerned that she had started frowning again. He leveled her with another of _those_ looks, and she felt like he could see everything in her again. She frowned more and took his face in-between her hands.

"What have you seen today? Who am I?" He intoned. She knew what he meant. She stared into those deep eyes while she thought about her answer.

"You're so intelligent it's almost frightening. You use sarcasm as a way to keep a distance between yourself and the rest of the world. You're worried about me, but you don't want to show it. You're bitter… so bitter. But deep down you don't want to be, whether you realize that or not." She frowned a little, but continued on. "You have a soft spot for Wilson, but pretend you don't. And he pretends not to notice that you do. You think that all you want is to be alone, but that's not true. That… _can't_ be true." She felt tears begin to gather in her eyes, but didn't really know the reason why.

Something within him seemed to break at her words, and he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against hers.

"God damn it…" He gritted out through clenched teeth. He was quiet for a few moments, as if struggling with his inner demons. "Guess you… knew… me better than we both thought." He said with a forced lightness, but she knew that it had been a hard admission for him to make. He would probably never say such a thing again. He backed away from her, resuming his leaning against the door frame. She watched as he gripped his cane tightly with both hands, his knuckles turning white.

_His hands wrapped tightly around the cane, gripping it so hard that his knuckles had gone white. As the man was distracted by her, he swung the cane as hard as he could at the man's head, knocking him unconscious. She had stared into his shocked and terrified eyes, as he tried to assure himself that she was alright. She had never seen him look so frightened in all the years she had known him._

Cameron's shocked gaze jerked up from his hands to his face, her expression seeming to startle him.

"House…" She breathed. Her body began to tremble with soft shocks as it all came rushing back to her..._ everything._

_

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_**A/N: Alright, I know that I said I'd have this up within a few days of the last one, but work decided to not play nice. So, I didn't have a chance until now. **

**Dissassociative Amnesia is an actual condition, and suited my purposes perfectly. I wanted to kind of explore how Cameron would perceive House if given a 'clean slate', as it were... if she knew nothing about him to begin with. And look at that: She still loves him! Aww, fluffy moment. **

**Anyways, leave me some reviews as per usual, and let me know what you guys think! I could have dragged the amnesia out another chapter, but I figured I'd be lynched by you guys if I tried.  
**


	13. Even the Playing Field

House straightened up in shock when she breathed out his name. His eyes sprang to hers in hope, and there he read the familiarity and recognition that he sought. Her body began to tremble slightly as she remained perched on top of the table, and he took a wary step forward toward her again.

"Oh my…" Her eyes were impossibly wide, and began to fill with tears. "I remember now… I remember _everything_…" House drew her to him into a grasping hug, clinging to her and feeling like something precious had just been returned to him. She sobbed softly into his shoulder, and he heard a faint noise from the doorway behind him. Turning only his head, he saw Wilson and Cuddy standing with brows raised – obviously this was not the kind of scene that they'd expected to walk into when they'd come to check on Cameron.

A badly suppressed smile twisted its way onto Wilson's lips as he took in the uncharacteristic sight of House actually _hugging_ someone, and when he spoke his voice had a drolly teasing edge to it.

"I thought your mother taught you not to make girls cry." House sent him a steely glare, refusing to even dignify that with a snarky answer. At the sound of Wilson's voice, Cameron had raised her head to smile happily at them.

"I remember!" She repeated. Brushing the tears off of her own face, she turned back to him. The look in her eyes had something clenching painfully in his chest, and he knew that all this time he'd been kicking and screaming against something that was inevitable. No matter what he did, there was going to be no way to escape the things that this tiny bit of female made him feel… the fact that she made him _feel_ at all. He didn't know how she'd accomplished it, but she'd crawled inside of him and apparently couldn't be taken back out.

Almost losing her – first from his own resistance to her, then from the accident, and finally within her own memories – had forced him to recognize just how essential she was to him. And he didn't know what in the hell to do about it.

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Cameron limped her way over to her front door when the bell rang, already pulling out the cash for the take-out that she'd ordered. It had been a few days since the return of her memory, and her leg had been healing up rather nicely. After paying the delivery guy and setting herself down at the kitchen table, she let her thoughts drift back to the one annoyingly tempting man that usually dominated them.

She was still bothered by the way in which her mind had erased all knowledge of him in some strange form of self-defense after the shock of losing the baby. She absently rubbed a hand across her heart when it twinged in pain at the thought. Cameron knew that she loved House – despite his surly disposition and the fact that he was fighting a relationship with her with everything he had – but she hadn't really given thought to children with him. When she'd found out that she'd been pregnant, it had felt wholly _right_ to her.

She'd been scared as hell to tell him, that was true, but she couldn't bring herself to regret the child. Losing it had been a blow to her. Their one night together seemed like it had been another lifetime ago… it seemed almost unreal to her now. Cameron wasn't sure if he'd ever let himself be happy with her, but that didn't mean that she was just going to give up trying.

There was so much more to him than he'd ever admit even to himself. She knew that he thought himself too hard-worn, to miserable, too old… too _wrong_ for her, but she knew better. She wasn't going to let him get away that easy.

She thought back to the whole 'lets be sassy' attitude that had led to all of this, and began to plan her attack.

--------------------------

House rubbed a hand wearily over his face, tired to the bone like he'd never known before. In the last few days, everywhere he'd gone, Cameron had been there. He turned the corner of the hall, and she was there. He dragged himself down to the clinics to get Cuddy off of his back, and she was there. He took five minutes to find quiet in his office, and she was strolling in the door. He couldn't escape her.

He heard the door to his office softly click open, and almost groaned aloud. _If that's her, I swear to god…_ He absently wondered when he'd started swearing to god, while simultaneously contemplating just what threatening deed he'd do if it was, indeed, her. Looking up bracingly, he let out a sigh when he saw that it was only Wilson.

"What do you need, Jimmy? I told you the hooker wouldn't be here until five." Wilson rolled his eyes, and sat himself on the edge of House's desk. _Oh, great. One of THOSE chats._ Wilson aimed him with one of those level stares, and House sighed in defeat.

"You're acting like a child." Wilson had taken on that calm, unflappable voice.

"Since when am I not? It's much more fun this way."

"You're running away from her like you were in the second grade again." House rolled his eyes at him.

"Oh, please. Give me some credit, Jimmy. By the second grade I was already kissing the little girls and making them cry… They really wrote that rhyme about me, you know." Wilson didn't even crack a smile, being too used to these kinds of responses by now. House sighed again. "Alright, fine. What is it going to take to get you the hell off my desk and out of my office?" Wilson smiled slightly, looking like he thought that he'd won.

_Ha. Doesn't matter what he wants, I'm not going to do it anyways._

"Stop hiding. I'm not saying you have to have some great heart-to-heart with her, just stop avoiding her. When have you ever known a problem to go away by avoiding it?" House aimed a thorough stare at him.

"It works on you all the time." Wilson chuckled at that, before easing himself off the desk and out the office door, leaving House yet again blissfully alone. However, it didn't last long. The door creaked open again, and expecting Wilson to have come back for another gloating session, he raised his head.

"Oh, for the love of –" He just couldn't catch a break today.

-----------------------

His defeated exclamation almost made her giggle. She knew that she'd been driving him insane by popping up everywhere, but she wanted him to learn that she wasn't just going to go away and let him avoid her.

The last few days, she'd learned that pushing House to his limits was almost… fun. She could now appreciate why he got so much enjoyment out of pushing everyone off the deep-end with his verbal witticisms and sarcastic comments all the time. She watched as he slumped his head against the back of the chair he was sitting in, and had to suppress the smile that was trying to twitch its way onto her lips.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" There was dry humour in her voice, and she saw him narrow his eyes over her amusement.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He accused her. She couldn't help it, she laughed out loud then. He glared at her even more, his brilliant eyes sparking in a way that they hadn't for a long time. It was good to see some of that fire back in him. As she sat herself on top of his desk, his glare changed into a strangely contemplative look. "You've got a cruel streak to you, don't you." It was said as a statement of fact, rather than being posed as an actual question. "Does this mean I can talk you into putting on leather and whipping me like a bad boy?" Cameron smiled at him, not thrown by the comment at all. She expected things like this out of him now.

"Only if you ask me _really_ nicely." His eyes widened in surprise at that, clearly not having expected her to play his own game. Usually when he made comments like that, she'd blush and change the subject, or coolly continue on with what she'd been saying to begin with. Never before had she thrown his own attitude back at him. He sent her another one of those contemplative looks, clearly trying to figure out what it was that she was after.

"You have my attention…" He drawled. _Excellent_.

**_To be concluded next chapter..._**

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**A/N: I know, you guys probably want to kill me for how long this took me to get to you. All I can say is, life just got in the way this time. I'll try to get the next and final chapter up in a decent amount of time, but I make no promises that work won't get in the way. **

**Leave me some reviews! You know I love 'em.  
**


	14. A New Us

House yanked on the tie around his neck, pulling it down so that it hung well below his open collar. Cameron may have gotten him out of his habitual jeans and t-shirt get-up, but he was drawing the line at this monkey suit. He was going to the damn wedding in a loose tie and open collar, and God help _anyone_ who tried to stop him.

The drive to the ceremony was almost too short; House had wanted some more time to dread the event before actually having to _go_ to it. Taking his place, he waited for the whole mess to hurry up and be over and done with. He continued to grumble to himself for a few minutes, earning him the occasional glare from those around him, but all thoughts went out of his head the moment that he saw her.

She was gorgeous. The smile on her face as she slowly approached him was radiant, and if he had it in him to blush, he might have. The way that her dress flowed around her body made interesting thoughts of 'later' flicker through his head, and he had to marvel at the fact that he was allowed to have her now. But the one way that she captured his attention at that exact moment?

She was wearing red. Bright, screaming, fire-engine red. God, he loved this woman.

---------------------------------

Cameron couldn't help but grin as she approached House where he was already seated. She'd known when she had asked him to come to her cousin's wedding that he hated events like this and wouldn't want to go, but at least he had actually shown up.

He looked miserable, to be fully honest. She watched as he glared at the people around him, tugging insistently on his tie to loosen it further. Her grin grew larger as she came closer to him, eager to see how he liked her surprise.

She knew the moment that he saw her, because his hand dropped away from his tie and his eyes widened in surprise. His whole body went still as she seated herself on the pew beside him, and he got that look in his eye that always said _I'm going to eat you up, as soon as we're alone_. Revelling in the effect she had on him, it was all too soon when he found his voice again.

"Is that just for me? I like the red, but you forgot the leather and naughty garters." Cameron didn't even try to stop the smile, having expected the usual House comment. She had gotten him to come to a family event as her date – a fantastic feat on its own – so she wasn't going to try and instill some sense of 'behaving' into him. She was pretty sure even his own mother would not be able to get House to _behave_.

As she opened her mouth to make a retort, the booming sounds of the Wedding March entered the church and stilled her words. The ceremony wasn't overly long, but she knew that pretty much every second must be some kind of cruel and unusual torture to him. As cousin Charlotte made her way down the aisle, Cameron couldn't help but twine her fingers around House's.

Her heart sped up at his firm grip, and she counted herself lucky that they had ended up where they were. Eternally glad that she hadn't given up on him – even though he'd tried so hard to make her do just that – Cameron felt truly at peace. He hadn't said the words 'I love you' to her yet… but he showed her how much he cared in the way he treated her.

House was still 'House'; he hadn't suddenly turned into some kind of sappy romantic. And, to be honest, Cameron didn't want him to be. She loved him in all his gruffness and sarcasm, and didn't want him to change. She loved him for who he truly was.

She glanced down at the ring on her finger, its row of diamonds winking in the soft light of the church. He'd given it to her a couple weeks ago in a typical House fashion; he'd walked into the kitchen where she'd been microwaving some popcorn for the movie they'd been about to watch, and plunked down the jeweller's box on the counter. 'Here' was all he'd said, before turning and walking back out to the living room. She had only smiled happily to herself as she'd slipped on the ring, and not another word had been said about it.

Was it romantic? Most people would probably say 'no'. But to Cameron, it was perfect… perfect for them. She'd known that House still had difficulty expressing any kind of real _emotion_,and probably always would. There hadn't been flowers, candles and music… but she didn't care about that at all. What she cared about was the fact that she had him firmly planted in her life now, and that she was in his.

He was all that she needed.

-----------------------------------

The god-awful ceremony mercifully came to an end. Subconsciously, House tightened his hold on Cameron's hand, thankful that the torture was over. Now came the only good part of weddings… the reception. The wedding guests all shuffled into the reception hall _en masse_, reminding House of cattle. He fucking hated weddings.

What the hell made him think that he could go through with one of his own? He hoped that Cameron wasn't going to plan up some kind of boring affair like this had been… In fact, he was toying with the delusion that she'd chuck all wedding plans out the window and just go to Vegas with him. Who needed family at a wedding? A fake Elvis could be just as good…

Sighing to himself, House limped along with his cane to their table, and dropped heavily into the chair. His leg was killing him. The dinner was mediocre, the music was terrible, and he was surrounded by strangers. It should have been a horrible night, but as he watched Cameron be twirled around the dance floor by her aging uncle, he found that he was almost enjoying himself. _Almost._

She was all smiles as she came back to him, and something clenched in his chest at the sight. He'd almost lost that smile for good… and all because of what an arrogant prick he'd been. Logically, he should have saved himself the months of torment and just given in to her from the beginning. _But let's face it, 'giving in' isn't exactly my style_.

"I think you almost made that grandpa at table nine have a heart attack when you flashed a little leg." She laughed at that, and he drank in the sight of her happiness. _Holy fuck, I am turning into such a sappy asshole._

"Well, it'd be his fault for looking." He loved the sassy attitude that she'd developed over the last few months, though his favourites were still the times when he could make her blush. There was something undeniably wonderful in watching Sassy-Cameron revert back to Shy-Cameron.

"God damn I love you, you heartless wench." House mentally cringed, the words having slipped out of his mouth before he'd even thought about it. He hadn't meant to tell her that he loved her… and he was sure that calling her a 'heartless wench' while doing it for the first time wasn't exactly what little girls dreamed of. He was amazed when her grin grew wider, even while her eyes went a little misty.

"I know." She leaned in and kissed him for all he was worth, and his thoughts stuttered to a halt.

_Gregory House… You are one lucky son of a bitch._

_

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_**A/N: Well, Porky the Pig says "That's all, Folks!". Thanks to everyone who stuck with this, I enjoyed playing around with the world of House, MD for my first run at fan fiction. **

**Your reviews and comments are, as usual, always appreciated!  
**


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